Lucky
by RainbowAnatomy
Summary: "You didn't see that coming?"
1. Prologue Part 1

**A/N:** I have had a love story written by the POV of Clint Barton (but still 3rd person. i had it in 1st person for a while but reading it now, it's pretty cruddy) for a couple years now. I've been dying to post it, but it was never polished enough. Today I randomly started rewriting it. I hope you enjoy, and I hope to finish rewriting it soon.

 **Disclaimer: If I owned it, you'd know it.**

* * *

 _Lucky - Prologue pt. 1_

* * *

He should have seen it coming.


	2. Prologue Part 2

_Lucky - Prologue pt. 2_

* * *

He hated the way they met: assassin and target. It was dark, near pitch black except for the sliver of moonlight leaking between the treetops; he could just make out her features, a curl here, the corner of her mouth turned down. She kept her gaze level with the gun.

 _"Come to kill me, Agent Barton?"_ Her voice was rougher than he had imagined. Then again, he had not heard it in person before, only over patched in cellphone conversations, videos Director Fury had shown him, fuzzy and far away when tracking her. He offered no response, simply clearing his throat and switching off the gun's safety mechanism. He wanted her to speak again. _"Why did they send you with a gun? I thought Hawkeye only dealt with bows and arrows."_ Her lips curled back into a small smile, teeth just catching the light. It was not threatening in it of itself.

It was her entire being that seemed like a threat. Just the way she stood there, unflinching, unnerved him. _"Well, aren't you going to ask how I know who you are, Clint Barton?"_ Oh, she was just _toying_ with him! _"What?"_ He can _hear_ the overt smirk in her voice. _"Widow got your tongue?"_ She had been staring down the barrel of his gun, but suddenly changes her focus, tracking her eyes to meet his. He could not make out their color, but they are sharp as one of his arrows, calculating and cool. Above all, they are unafraid. _"I'm waiting, Barton."_ Her smile dropped. _"Make your move."_

He had stopped thinking. His arm, which had started to shake, fell to his side. There was nothing separating them anymore. He wanted to step forward, close the distance, but she just continued to stare, holding him at bay. He dampened his lips, clearing his throat once more. _"You owe me,"_ he said. Or, rather, how she tells it now, croaked. Her laugh rocked him to his very core, though he was glad that the lack of light did not show this. _"I owe you?!"_ Her laugh grew louder. _"Wow, Barton, it's so unfortunate that we must meet under these circumstances. I'd love to know if all your jokes are like that."_

His mouth opened again, but his mind blanked on words for a moment, leaving her to laugh at him, still. Then, _"I'm not joking, Ms. Romanoff. You can go. But you owe me."_ Her laughter dried up and she cocked an eyebrow. He wasn't quite sure, but he swore he could see surprise flash in those stone cold eyes. _"If you let me go, that puts you in quite a predicament with your, ah…. employer."_ He shrugged. Expert marksman, expert assassin, face to face with his target - and he _shrugged_. Her smile returned. _"My life for a favor? You must not be a very good negotiator."_ He just met her gaze with more ferocity, wanting her to _get_ it, wanting her to feel the hesitance that had build up in his trigger finger, now switching the safety back on. _"Go,"_ he said, firmer that time, _"I'm not making the offer again._ "

 _"All right, Barton. You've got yourself a deal."_ He stuck out his hand. _"What?"_

 _"Shake on it,"_ he commanded – or tried to.

 _"What are we - children?"_

 _"Shake on it, or no deal."_ Her eyebrows rose again. Slowly, almost begrudgingly, her arm extended. Their fingertips just brushed before she dropped her hand.

 _"Sorry, Barton. That's against my policy."_ And before he knew it, he was swept sideways, gun knocked free of his hand, right wrist handcuffed to a slim branch of a nearby tree. The thin moonlight filtered around her face, catching battle worn grey-green eyes. _"But thanks for not killing me. I promise you won't regret it."_

Just like that, the target he had been tracking for months slipped away, her fire red curls dancing in the snippets of light around her. He remembered the color of her eyes long after another fellow agent came to uncuff him.


	3. Chapter 1

**A/N:** Obviously I had to come up with an exact story of how Clint and Natasha met in the MCU. The rest of the story takes place some time after The Avengers and before Age of Ultron. ( _Italics_ have indicated and will indicate past conversations. **Bold** shall now indicate text messages, though I do not believe I will be using that a lot.)

* * *

 _Lucky - Chapter 1_

* * *

He got the call before sunrise. Groaning, he tossed his sheets aside, dragging himself out of bed. It was then he pictured her doing the same, musing her red curls out of her groggy eyes after hanging up her phone. He thought about this every time he got a mission call at odd hours since she became an agent of S.H.I.E.L.D. three or so years ago.

* * *

Not long after he had let her go, Director Fury decided it was better to have her on their side rather than the Russian government's and offered her a deal she couldn't refuse. In the beginning, she had not shown the cunning playfulness she held when she was his target. After a couple months, he caught her crying in between the arsenal of weapons S.H.I.E.L.D. She had dried her tears before he could ask if she was crying. _"Great,"_ she had said, _"Now I'm gonna have to kill you."_ Then she had chuckled. _"Or worse, become your best friend so you never tell anyone my dark secrets."_

 _"Dark secrets? Like having emotions?"_ he had managed, heart thumping at that laugh again.

 _"Where I come from, emotions are the darkest."_

 _"And, ah, where_ are _you from?"_

She smirked. _"Didn't Director Fury and Agent Hill make you learn every single detail about me before they sent you after me?"_

 _"Well, yes, but,"_ he met her gaze and gave a lopsided grin, _"I'd rather hear it from you."_

 _"Huh. Don't hold your breath, Barton, we're not there yet."_ She wiped her eyes once more, despite them now looking like they'd never shed a single tear in her life.

 _"Yet? Does that mean you're going with the second option?"_ he joked, watching her start down the hall back to work. She paused and looked over her shoulder with a soft smile, not unlike the one she gave him that night.

 _"Shh, I haven't decided."_ And she laughed for long after she had vanished from his sight, sound echoing back to him, his brain stuck on _'yet, yet, yet.'_

* * *

His personal phone buzzed again.

 **'You ready for work?'** (Nat R - 4:56 am)

He couldn't help the grin that stretched across his face.

 **'As always. See you soon?'** (4:56 am)

 **'I'll bring the coffee.'** (Nat R – 4:57 am)

He left his phone on the bed and hustled for the shower.

* * *

Walking into Headquarters, he immediately scanned the room, spotting her curls from the doorway. She turned as if she knew she was being watched – he learned that she always _knew_ \- and caught his eye, a cocky grin appearing on her face as he sauntered over.

"Good morning, Agent Romanoff," he mocked an authoritative tone, tipping his head and taking the coffee cup labeled for him. Her jaw dropped and she feigned fake offence. "Agent Romanoff?" she gasped, "Since when have I been _Agent Romanoff_?" She went to stalk off to the round table but he caught her wrist before thinking. "It was a _joke_ , Nat!" He ruffled her hair, jostling them out of place. She swatted his hand away. "I know, _Agent Barton,_ " she countered, before turning and striding away towards the stairs.

He smiled after her, watching for the signature spring in her step she always had when she needed to wake up, when she felt determined. Most people had never bothered to notice this, but he knew her better than anyone else in the whole building – the whole _world,_ she had told him once when she'd had a little too much to drink at one of Tony Stark's celebrations.

"Morning, boys," she announced, reaching the last step. She ruffled her hands through Tony's hair, and then Bruce Banner's, letting her finger trail down to his shoulder. Steve Rogers and Thor nodded in return of the greeting. " _And_ brilliant woman," she added as she slid into the seat next to Agent Maria Hill, looking up with a wink. Agent Hill, who stood solemnly beside Director Fury, spared a moment to smile at the comment, before glancing over to him. Steve followed the look over his shoulder and raised an eyebrow.

She cocked her head at his resistance at the bottom of the stairs, before patting the seat next to her. He released a pent up sigh and began to climb the steps, wondering if he had just imagined her hands lingering by Bruce, then wondering why he even cared all of a sudden.


	4. Interlude 1

It was only until she was napping on the Quinjet that he realized he loved her.


	5. Chapter 2

Thor and Steve were quietly talking in the corner. He figured it was about strategy, but when he listened closer, Steve was questioning the specifics of Thor's hammer, Mjölnir. Tony had his feet propped up on the dashboard, conversing with his A.I. masterpiece, J.A.R.V.I.S. She was worn out from the fight, curled up on the floor. Bruce had draped his ripped pre-Hulk shirt across her fragile-while-sleeping frame. He focused on her hand, cupping her face, and hadn't noticed Bruce sidling up besides him.

"Hey, Barton," Bruce greeted carefully, "How are you doing? You got tossed around a bit out there..."

"We won, so. But, I'm… ok," he answered, just as careful.

"Are you?" Bruce raised an eyebrow.

"Yeah, seriously. Um," he cleared his throat nervously, "Good, uh, good job out there today." Bruce's face changed, hardened. _Shit_.

"I don't know how to take that…"

"Oh, jeez, I'm sorry, Banner," he stammered, caught up in how well that face mirrored hers, "I didn't mean any offence by it. I know Code Greens suck, I wasn't-"

"It's ok," Bruce broke in, glancing over his shoulder to where she was sleeping, "You seem… upset and distant with…with me. Is this about Natasha?"

" _What?_ " he barked, though it sounded fake even to his ears, "No, I have no right to… No reason to be."

"That doesn't tell me anything. It really feels like you are, especially these past couple months."

He shook his head quickly. "No, no, seriously. I'm ok. I'm not upset at anyone."

Bruce was silent for a long moment, staring him down before stepping closer, lowering his voice.

"You… You love her, don't you?"

"No," he lied, because it was too new a feeling to fully admit to himself, let alone one of his teammates, "At least, not in the way you're implying. Besides… she likes you."

"You don't have to lie to me."

"Are you really going all therapist on me!?" His voice raised a notch, catching the attention of the rest of the people on the quinjet for a moment. Bruce shook his head slowly, lowering their volume again.

"You know I don't have the… temperament to be a therapist. And Barton, really?"

He dropped his head down, focusing instead on the ground. "I don't know…" His voice was barely above a whisper. "Maybe." He felt a hand on his shoulder and looked up again. Bruce gave him a curt nod, eyes suddenly soft on him, before stepping away, pulling the shirt further over her body. She smiled in her sleep and tightened her grip on the fabric.

He just watched, throat tight. Bruce looked back at him for a moment, giving him a tight smile, full of sorrow and of knowledge. For and of what, he did not know.


	6. Chapter 3

The quinjet touched down and Natasha shot up so fast she toppled over sideways; he moved to catch her but Bruce got there first. "Thanks, Bruce," she mumbled, voice thick with sleep, giving an embarrassed smile. He sighed and followed his teammates towards Headquarters. Agent Hill pulled her aside, and for a moment they laughed and grinned at each other. He smiled softly to himself – he had that connection with her. Except, it was suddenly different. There were feelings climbing his heart and head that he had never intended on feelings.

* * *

Later that night, just as the sun had sunk behind the Stark Tower, he met her on the balcony. Everyone else was inside laughing, celebrating their victory, but she leaned outside against the railing, hair tossed aside by the wind, eyes squinting against the city lights. Up there, everything seemed so far away. Up there, they were just a gang of rowdy adults, instead of The Avengers: Earth's Mightiest Heroes. He cleared his throat lightly.

"Hey, Clint," she whispered. He moved closer, resting his elbow against the edge to look at her. "What's up Nat?" he asked, watching her eyes glittering in the last lingering shred of sunlight. The look she had on her face, he quickly realized, was one he had never seen on her before. His heart caught in his throat; sweat was beading lightly on her forehead, despite the cool night breeze, and her pupils were dilated, staring at some point far over his head. " _Shit_ , Nat. Are you ok? What happened?"

Her eyes snapped back to him, as if they had just realized he was there. She drew a deep breath through shaky lips, eyes drifting back towards the skyline, and said, "Do you remember when Bruce, uh, was provoked and freaked out, and I didn't notice because I had just knocked you out to get Loki out of your head?" He rubbed his forehead at the mention. She pushed on. "And he, Bruce… I mean, the "other guy" showed up."

"Yeah?" he nudged. _Where was this going?_

"I never told you this before, it seemed, I dunno, really weak, and I only really think about it during Code Greens, but… I was… Terrified. He… _That_ shattered me. I thought I was going to die. I thought I was going to be killed and that I'd never get a chance to say goodbye to…" She fixed her focus on him again, terror ingrained in her beautiful, glass cut, battle haunted face.

"Oh, Nat…" Tears had crept into the corners of her eyes. He didn't mention them but she swiped at them nonetheless – she still hated anyone seeing her cry, it was reflexive.

"I will _never_ beg for my life, Clint, you of all people know this, but I almost slipped that day. I almost gave up, got down on both knees, and _prayed_. I don't even think I have it anywhere in me to believe in anything, but there I was. Huddled in between the pipes, listening to him get farther and father away, with tears and snot and shaking and everything, praying. For my life."

It had built up in his mouth and came tumbling out before he could stop himself, "I don't see how you could love him. Not after that."

She took another deep breath, a shiver running down her spine. Was she cold or afraid?

"I feel like that now," she murmured.

"Like what?"

"Terrified. Afraid for my life. I don't know what I'm going to do, Clint." She stepped forward, closing the distance between them as she wrapped her arms tight around his waist, burying her face in his just-washed shirt. He noticed then that she was still wearing his ripped shirt over her outfit. He was about to mention it, but then her voice reached his ears again, smaller than usual, "I love you, Clint. I really do. Thank you. So much."

Then she pulled away sharply, spinning around and disappearing back into the building, so fast he had to think for a minute before he noticed she was gone. _'I love you, Clint. I really do.'_ He watched the door for a while, catching his breath, thinking, _I love you, too, Natasha. I really do._


	7. Interlude 2

No one else thought to see it coming, either.


	8. Chapter 4

_Lucky - Chapter 4_

* * *

He always thought of them as friends, but the look they exchanged over his shoulder was far away from just that. He had never seen her look at anyone that way; it was new, a fresh flower after a reign of destruction. The rational part tried to reason with him – they'd gone on a mission together not too long ago, they _were_ friends, and he had just begun to overanalyze every interaction she had with those around them. The emotional part snapped a bolt of jealousy through his body so violently his head spun. _Get a hold of yourself, Clint!_ And then, just as fast as the look was there, it was gone, and her focus returned to him. He rearranged his face to less of a sulk and maintained a decent amount of happiness until she was called across the room and sauntered away.

"Aww, come on, Barton, wipe that sorry-for-yourself look off your face," Tony teased, appearing at his shoulder. He managed a quizzical look, "I don't know what you're talking about?"

Tony smirked. "I saw the way you looked at her when she looked at Rogers."

" _Lay off,_ Stark," he sighed, voice to hollow for it to hit harshly.

"Aww, buddy," Tony laughed, "Her and Steve, though? As _if_!" Passing him a bag of pistachios, he added before leaving him be, "Help yourself, and for fuck's sake, ask her out before I lose my bet!"

* * *

One evening, she convinced him to invite the team over for dinner at his tiny apartment. It was spontaneous; she was stretched out across his couch, rifling through a new mission folder. He was making is way through the kitchen, cooking them lasagna for dinner. For a moment, they looked up at the same time and smiled at each other.

* * *

When they first started becoming closer and he took her to his place, she teased him about how much of a homemaker he was compared to her. He'd seen her apartment; there wasn't much there but a couch, TV, bed, and small kitchen.

 _"Any place can feel bigger once you start to actually_ use _the kitchen, Natasha."_ He took a quick peak through the cabinets; it had the bare minimum required to be functional. All it lacked was a person to put everything together. _"Be my guest,"_ she chuckled, sinking to the couch and flipping on the TV. _"How do you feel about chocolate?"_ he called, tugging his coat back on. She glanced over. _"An aphrodisiac? Careful, Barton, if I wasn't that smart I'd think you'd only become my friend to seduce me."_

He headed out the door for the corner store, laughing, _"I'll take that as a 'yes', then."_

He baked a chocolate cake that evening, the first thing he had ever made for her. She took a bite, those grey-green eyes widening with delight. She beamed across the table at him and he just grinned. He didn't know. _Yet._

 _"You know, Clint, you and this cake make this tiny place feel a little more like home."_

* * *

"You know, Clint, you shouldn't let your amazing cooking talents go to waste on just me," she said, closing the file, padding over to the kitchen. He slid the lasagna into the oven and cocked his head at her. As soon as she'd gotten closer, his pulse had picked up. "What are you suggesting?" he returned.

"Let's invite the team over. For dinner."

"Nat, _you_ can't just decide to invite the Avengers over to _my_ apartment," he chuckled, ruffling her hair quickly. She pulled out a rare pout, giving him those wide eyes he loved to see.

"But we're best friends, Clint, what's yours is mine and I think they'd really appreciate it. Plus, I think Tony and Hill are secretly huge foodies. I'm sure they'd _love_ to indulge you in some deep talk about which method really is the _best_ method to make vegetables."

"Ok, well everyone knows that _baking_ veggies is-" She cocked an eyebrow at him and he paused, a faint pink appearing on his cheeks. "Right, you don't care…" Silence stretched out between them before he sighed in defeat. "All right, _fine_ , I'll invite them over. But you're helping me host."

She beamed. "Deal!"

* * *

(New Message. Sent to: Iron Dickwad, Cap. Rogers, Thunderbolts & Lightning, Banner, Nat R, Fast & FURYious, Agent Hill): **'Hey, team. I know we all love Stark's parties, but let's face it, the food is just ok. So, Nat gave me the idea to make dinner for the team this Saturday at 7 pm. There'll be lots of great food. Let me know if you can make it.'** (3:26 pm)

 **'Oh, and there'll be lots of alcohol, too.'** (Nat R – 3:27 pm)

 **'Sounds nice, Barton. I'll be there.'** (Cap. Rogers – 3:40 pm)

 **'I will bring the Asgardian Moon whiskey!'** (Thunderbolts & Lightning – 3:44 pm)

 **'Sorry, Barton, I won't be able to make it. Thank you for the generous invite.'** (Fast & FURYious – 3:57 pm)

 **'Boooooooooo, Fury. I, on the other hand, will be there. Can I bring Pepper?'** (Iron Dickwad – 4:01 pm)

 **'Sure, Tony.'** (4:02 pm)

 **'I can make it.'** (Banner – 4:07 pm)

 **'Same, can't wait. Thanks, Barton!'** (Agent Hill – 4:31 pm)


	9. Chapter 5

_Lucky - Chapter 5_

* * *

Saturday went well. Despite him dreading making food for 8 instead of 2, she made it go smoothly. She went with him to the grocery story to buy everything he needed – and he had needed a _lot_ to just to feed a Demigod and a Super Soldier, let alone everyone else. She bought all the booze, too, and as the evening was winding down, the team finished their last drinks and left one by one, thanking them for the lovely dinner.

"So, ah, Barton," Tony asked before he left with Pepper, "Tell me, can I collect my winnings?" _Oh, the bet._ He chuckled and shook his head, trying to play it smooth, "Goodbye, Stark." Tony pouted, but resigned as Pepper cleared her throat. That left her and Agent Hill.

"All right, children," Hill teased, "One more drink for the road?"

" _Children_?" she gasped, "Careful, Maria. I'll drink you so far under the table, you'll be seeing stars for years." Had they always called each other by their first names?

"Guys," he slurred, "Shh, not tonight. Just one more. Only one." They winked at each other before looking at him. "Lightweight," they laughed in unison. He ignored the jab and poured three glasses, until Hill glanced at the clock and realized it was almost one in the morning.

"I better go," Hill signed, "Maybe next time we can have that drinking competition."

"Yeah," she returned, frowning ever so slightly, "Next time." She walked Hill to the door, gave her a quick hug, and locked the door behind their friend. Then she was kissing him. Her mouth tasted of blood and liquor, and she was pressed firm against his body. He knew she was strong, but he was suddenly, completely, willingly overpowered by her.

It was drawn out, almost violent; her fingernails dragging down his back, marking roadmaps of skin she claimed, scratching and pulling through fabric, his teeth catching her already bruised lips. He pushed her towards the couch, and she clung to his waist, pulling him with her, neither one of them coming up for air. He reached for the top of her shirt. She took his wrist hesitantly.

"Are you ok?" he panted, fingers lingering at the top of her blouse. Her eyes were dark, careful, calculating, but in answer, she leaned up, catching his mouth on hers again. Caught up in the moment, he pulled, and the sound of tearing fabric reached his ears. The buttons on her shirt popped, tumbling to the floor. He dismissed the hesitance, he dismissed the idea of her and Bruce; he was just glad she had finally chosen _him_.


	10. Interlude 3

He never knew to look for it.


	11. Chapter 6

**A/N:** Song here is Lucky by Jason Mraz and Colbie Caillat. It is in italics, which represent the present tense in this chapter only.

* * *

 _Lucky – Chapter 6_

* * *

He had been wandering around Headquarters searching for her when he heard self-conscious giggling. " _Please_ play, Natasha," a garbled voice was saying. He didn't even think anyone in the building knew how to _giggle_ , let alone her. "Ok, ok, Maria," she returned. A guitar scale reached his ears. He thought he knew her so well… But even in their month of dating, and years of friendship, he never knew she played the guitar.

 _"Do you hear me, I'm talking to you_

 _Across the water, across the deep, blue ocean_

 _Under the open sky, oh my, baby I'm trying."_

A shiver ran down his spine. She _sung,_ too? He had never heard her voice like that, and it wasn't what he was expecting. Her voice fell easy on his ears, but was still slightly gruff, winding its way around his heart.

 _"Boy, I hear you in my dreams_

 _I feel your whisper across the sea_

 _I keep you with me in my heart_

 _You make it easier when life gets hard."_

He closed his eyes, letting the song and the guitar fill his chest.

 _"Lucky I'm in love with my best friend_

 _Lucky to have been where I have been_

 _Lucky to be coming home again_

 _I'm lucky we're in love in every way_

 _Lucky to have stayed where we have stayed_

 _Lucky to be coming home someday."_

"That was beautiful. Wow, Natasha…" Hill sighed when she had finished the song. He could picture her blushing all shades of pink, just like when he tickled her, or swung her over his shoulder and she laughed.

"Yeah, well," she flustered, "Thank you."

There was a pause and then, "Was… was it for Clint?"

His phone went off before he could hear the answer, skittering away before they could catch him eavesdropping.


	12. Interlude 4

She saw it coming. She knew, she always knew. She was just terrified for anyone else to see.


	13. Chapter 7

**A/N:** The text shown at the beginning is sent from Agent Maria Hill's phone to Natasha's phone. It's not like, accidentally sent to Clint's phone, hahaha.

* * *

 _Lucky – Chapter 7_

* * *

 **'Natasha, hi. We should get together soon. I miss hanging out with you.'** (My Maria – 4:13 am)

* * *

She shot out of their bed one morning, three months after bloody lips and sweaty bodies, two since guitars and singing. He followed her pacing with his eyes and for a heartbeat, her eyes cut to his. He saw it again, something he'd only seen once in her life: sheer terror. She did not say anything, simply wearing down the carpet as she shuffling back and forth between her

"Nat?" he asked, after several minutes.

"What?" she paused to stare at him, as if just realizing he was there. There was a small frown that sunk across her lips, her eyes lit with misery. And then he saw it coming all over again. "I'm so sorry, Clint," she whispered. His throat was dry; he wanted to kiss the fear off her face, but part of him knew that would make it worse. She was afraid… of him. "Sorry for what?" he managed to croak, if only to prolonged the inevitable that had materialized into the air.

"You're smart," she started softly, "You knew. You knew this entire time, didn't you? Clint, I love you. So, so, so much. More than I have loved anyone else… But…" He felt the stilted breath, the hesitance, the same one from their first time.

"But?" he prompted.

"But as a friend, Clint. You're my partner, you're my right hand, you're my best friend, and the man I'd spend the rest of my life with if…" She crumpled inwards against herself, sinking to the floor, tears beginning to spill down her cheeks.

"If what?"

"If I didn't love – " The silence was heavy for a long pregnant pause, then, "I would be able to _be_ with you. Probably as more than a friend. And I can't believe I used you as my guise, my lie… I told you, Clint, the one thing I'll never do is beg for my life. But I am so terrified of what might happen if everyone _knew_. I… I saw you. Your beautiful eyes, your charming smile… All for me. And I convinced myself to finally buy into that, to make myself fall in love with you… But it didn't work. All of this… all of my façade would have been real… it could have lasted forever. If it wasn't for…" She paused again, taking a couple rasping breaths. He just stared at her, air caught in his throat. "If it wasn't for fucking Maria goddamn Hill."

The moment the name left her lips, she seemed sit up just a bit taller. There was that defiant ferocity in her eyes that he had not seen since they met, all those years ago. Except, unlike then, there was hints of terror danced there, that hung on the corners of her slightly parted, rasping lips. She must have seen how pale he went for a moment; it took a while for him to register what she had just admitted. He had been braced for Bruce, or even Steve. But Hill? Despite the jealousy that crawled in the back of his brain, despite the flash of betrayal he felt when she called him a lie, he could not find it in himself to be angry with her.

The tightness in his chest dissipated. It wasn't because she didn't love him. She didn't love him like that because she was…

"You're gay?" he eked – not exactly the tone he had been going for. He suddenly felt a rush of confusion at himself, for not knowing her as well as he thought. She eyed him levelly, weighing her responses before murmuring, "I'm in love with Maria Hill. I… I have been for a while now. It's always just been _there._ This bundle of _feelings_ inside of me. Maybe since the battle of New York, maybe earlier, maybe forever. I never told anyone…" She flushed softly. "I never told _you_ because… I was afraid. And fear, well, you know how I feel about fear."

She looked back down to study her suddenly interesting knees, tears still dripping down her face, making silent rivers to her chin. He studied her for a while, her warm, welcoming lips that had been his to kiss for such a short time, the hilt of her breasts as she tried to control her breathing, and her fingers, laced together, holding herself in a tight ball. She sniffed, and he seconded the noise, realizing he had his own tears in his eyes.

"Ok," he finally whispered. Her head shot up. Beyond the doubt and fear, a small flicker of hope bloomed in her eyes, "Ok?"

"Yeah. Of course it's ok. I mean, I'm ok. I'm just… Thanks for trusting me. Nat, I'm so glad you told me." He didn't quite know what to say, but the managed flicker of a smile told him he had done at least an ok job. They sat there for a long time in their – no, in _his_ – bedroom, tears and snot and shaking and everything. He wondered, briefly, if she was praying.


	14. Chapter 8

**A/N:** The only thing better than Black Hill is Scarlet Widow, but this fic is a stroll down memory lane, before I knew Wanda Maximoff was a thing. Besides, the world needs more lesbian/bisexual avengers.

* * *

 _Lucky – Chapter 8_

* * *

He had never seen anyone put herself back together so fast. When she finally dried her eyes, she wound herself up like a clock, picking her way to the bathroom, creeping, almost, as if she was in unfamiliar terrain. He just waited, counted the seconds between his breaths, not quite sure what was going to happen next. When she emerged, she looked like marble again. Cold, hard; eyes guarded. We walked in silence to his car, showed up on time to work, together, solemnly. He could feel every cell of her body, on fire and waiting for the pay off.

He couldn't understand how he missed this, way before they even tried to date. It hit him in the middle of a briefing meeting: he hadn't looked too much into that exchange so long ago. Because trailing behind Bruce, whom he had assumed was receiving her look of pure adoration and love, was Hill, sparing a second of her hectic life to look back at her. Which was when she turned back to Steve, eyes shining and cheeks hue darker. That happiness he hadn't seen on her in a while.

* * *

He didn't mean to see it, not this time. He wanted to give her space, but he was passing on an overhead platform, pausing to take in the view of Headquarters, watching his coworkers going about their work; below him, an elevated walkway where Hill was on her phone. She strutted up, no terror to be found - only that signature spring in her step. She cleared her throat and Hill looked up with a grin, tucking her phone away.

"Ah, the elusive Natasha Romanoff," Hill chuckled, propping her hands on her hips, "To what do I owe the pleasure?"

"Elusive?" she questioned, raising an eyebrow.

" _Yes_ , elusive. I haven't heard much from you the past couple months… Since you sang for me, really. I thought that mortified you, despite you having a beautiful voice."

She blushed, a light pink hue prominent on her sharp, pale cheekbones. "No, that wasn't it… I'm sorry. For avoiding you for so long." Silence hung between them, her studying the floor, Hill studying her.

"I missed you, Nat. You're one of… well, really… My best friend." _Best friend._ He sighed. He'd been so wrapped up in himself and jealousy that he hadn't paused to really think about any of her other friendships. Or who thought of her as a best friend as well – that explained the song. He had learned the answer to Hill's question after all. She took Hill's hand in hers, and the agent in turn rubbed slow circles across her calloused fingers.

"I have something to tell you," she murmured. Even from his ascended position, he could picture the confusion float across Hill's face, see her cock her head.

"Ok?"

She glanced over her shoulder; he knew she could tell they weren't really alone. She swept closer, staring at their hands. "About the singing…"

"Yeah?"

"Maria, remember when you asked if it was for Clint? And I never answered, really… It wasn't… I mean, I love Clint. But… not like that." She stared into Hill's eyes, trying to get the agent to _see_. He felt a sense of shame creep up his spine at his invasion of this private moment, and then a sense of hurt again at the back of this throat. But above it all, he felt pride at his best friend, his partner, finally feeling like she was able to embrace her true emotions. He knew her entire backstory by then; if he could ensure he gave her the space to just _be_ , he knew he would never lose her company, be it completely platonic - he loved her nonetheless.

"So who was it for, then?" Hill asked. He snapped out of his self-reflection at the nervous thread in the agent's tone. She eyed Hill, fear clear in her ridged posture and sudden squeeze of their hands. Then she sighed loudly and leaned down, placing a gentle kiss on the back of Hill's hand before laughing, "It was for one hell of a woman."


	15. Interlude 5

They started slowly.

First, she carried a third coffee cup in the morning labeled "Maria" along side the one for him and herself. Stolen glances and winks across the room. When she started to feel just a touch more brave, under the table hand-holding at meetings. After a couple weeks, she took Maria's hand above the table for the first time. He saw Tony's mouth quirk, the glance exchanged with Steve. But she just met their gazes evenly until they smiled, shrugged, and returned to work. He saw Maria pulse their hands together, their own silent communication, and she lit up with a brilliant smile. Later, they started showing up to work together, just as she and he had, using each other's lingo. Maria transformed her tiny apartment into something pleasant and welcoming (much to her outward display when she showed him around, he knew she felt like home in that place once again). They threw house parties, went to others with matching color palettes, claimed to have gotten a dog (no one believed that the Black Widow was even capable of caring for such a creature. He just thought it could use a haircut). Sometimes, they even kissed at work, much to Tony's childish delight.

But above all, they were in love.

Everyone could see it.

And they laughed, and laughed and laughed.


	16. Chapter 9

**_A/N:_** There will be 1 more chapter after this (and maybe an epilogue but probably not). I hope you've enjoyed this ride.

* * *

 _Lucky – Chapter 9_

* * *

He had been the only one to not see it coming.

* * *

He was hovering around the entrance to the main hall, waiting for her to finish getting ready, when a hand clapped his shoulder. Bruce was giving him a soft smile, a knowing look hanging in his eyes. "How are you doing, Clint? You ok?"

He took a shaky breath, not wanting to admit anything at his best friend's wedding. Then again, there wasn't much to admit anymore. There was no changing anything. "I… I think I will be. I love… I loved her very much. I just have to get used to really sharing my best friend."

"Natasha loves you very much. I don't think you have to worry about sharing. You'll be ok."

"Thank you, Bruce. You're a really great man."

Bruce chuckled and jerked his chin in the direction of a brunette sitting next to Pepper. "See her? She's a friend of Pepper and Maria. You should introduce yourself at the reception later."

He felt his cheeks grow warm, so he waved Bruce off to take his seat and two workers pushed the doors shut behind him, the noise from the main hall growing to a dull hum.

"Clint?"

He turned; he had imagined her in a wedding dress before, but his thoughts could not touch the sheer beauty in front of him. The lingering sadness was replaced by an overwhelming sense of love.

"Oh, Natasha…" he breathed, offering her his arm as she drew closer, "You look… wow."

She laughed, that beautiful, beautiful laugh, and hooked her elbow into his. "Thank you, Clint. That means so much to me." They both smiled watery smiles at each other.

"I am so happy for you, Nat," he murmured. And he wholly meant it. She beamed. Turning her head to face the closed doors, holding her friends and family, all waiting for her, she took a deep breath. "Are you ok?" he asked at her hesitance. She nodded slowly.

"Yeah," she breathed.

"Are you ready?"

She shot her eyes over to their wedding coordinator, who was waiting for the cue for the first walk down the isle. She gave a single nod. Muted sounds of "Here Comes the Bride" filtered through the thick doors.

"Yes. I'm ready," she whispered, tightening her hand around his bicep. The workers pulled the doors open. The room had fallen silent beside the music; everyone rose to their feet to take in the first bride to walk, eyes almost as wide as hers.

"All right, Nat," he whispered under his breath as they both took in the scene, "Let's get you to the alter."

* * *

He spotted the brunette on the edge of the dance floor during the reception. As per Bruce's suggestion, he decided to introduce himself. There was something about her – warm and inviting. He broke away from the circle of feebly-attempting break dancers, which consisted of Steve, Thor, and Natasha, and shimmied over to her, offering his hand.

"May I have this dance?" he asked, taking on his most charming tone, the one that Natasha always teased him about.

"Oh!" the woman gasped, clearly startled out of her people watching. She quickly turned pink at her surprise and uncertainly placed her hand into his. "Um. Yes?" He grinned and lead her fully onto the dance floor as the song shifted to a slower one. They swayed for a bit next to the newly weds; Maria resting her chin on Natasha's head, their eyes closed and mouths stretched into identical, blissful smiles.

"I don't mean to… seem like a crazy fan, but…" the woman started, breaking their silence up until that point, "You're really Clint Barton, aren't you? The legendary Hawkeye?"

"Legendary?" he chuckled, "Thanks for that. And yes, I really am Clint Barton." He glanced over to the couple; she gave him a cheeky grin and a wink, mouthing, "Thank you." He grinned back, tipping his head to her, before returning fully to the swaying. "May I ask your name, miss?"

She flushed a deep red. "My name? M… my name is Laura."

"Laura…" He rolled the name around his tongue. It was sweet, kind, a completely different aura. "It's beautiful."


	17. Chapter 10

_Lucky – Chapter 10_

* * *

"Do you remember when we first met?" she asked, sitting up straighter in her chair, lifting her wine glass to her lips. He glanced over from his spot in front of the full-length mirror in the room. "How could I forget," he chuckled, leaving his half-tied tie to wrap an arm around her shoulders.

"Did you ever think we'd end up here?" She looked up at him, raising an eyebrow to warn him off of messing up her hair. He grinned innocently. "Oh, jeez, did Laura ever teach you how to tie a tie? You've been together for years! Come on." She stood and swiftly fixed his tie, fussing with it until she deemed it perfect – nothing less for her best friend. "Too bad I'm gay." She clicked her tongue and shook her head. "Or you'd be a fine husband."

"You've told me that before, Nat," he mused, glancing at the hand still against his chest.

"I know." She sighed softly and gave him a soft pat. He waited, content to share this moment. "I love you, Clint."

"I love you, too, Natasha," he returned immediately. It was true, it had always been true. But it was different, they both knew. He cupped his hand over hers. "I know it was never going to work out between us, but I am forever honored that I get to call you my partner and my best friend. Where we are now… I couldn't imagine a more perfect life."

"Ahh, that's just because Maria always offers to pay for our double dates," she chuckled, leaning up to kiss his cheek. "Now come on. You have a hall full of people who love you and a bride waiting to walk down the isle. And I, for one, cannot wait until you say, 'I do.' So let's get this party started, Barton."

She walked him to the alter, giving his tie one last tug and his jacket one last fluff before taking her spot behind him, his Best Woman. Maria spotted her and blew a kiss; she caught it and held it against her chest. His breath caught in his throat as the band struck up "Here Comes the Bride" and the double doors opened.

And there was Laura, as beautiful and radiant as the sun, smile as warm as the summer day when he proposed. His eyes widened and filled with tears; he could not believe he got to spend the rest of his life with the love of his life. She was everything but frost needing to thaw. She was everything but made of stone.

Laura made her way down isle.

And that time, everyone saw it coming.

Including him.

 _ **End**_ **.**


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